A Helping Pair Of Hands
by Genjutsu-Dragon
Summary: When his sister won't look after the Dalish elf she's bought back from the mountain, Carver takes the responsibility into his own hands. A series of drabbles on how their relationship develops. Rated T in case swearing happens.


**This is a plot bunny I've been suppressing for months, but it finally needed to get out. To make it manageable (and not crush my oh-so-frequent updates of Jaiden Tabris, har har har), I'm writing it as a series of lengthy drabbles instead of a full-fleshed story. The first chapter is mostly setting the scene, so bear with me. Hope you enjoy it. Story is being cross-posted to my tumblr account, sketchyfletch.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

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><p>His sister always had enjoyed the best of everything. She was better than Beth with magic, better than him at learning from books, good at cooking, at coaxing oxen to plough a field, at every sodding thing she set a finger too. It had even been a running joke in Lothering that she was better with the ladies than he was. Bloody Amelia Hawke, always ready to win friends to her side with a beguiling look from big blue eyes, and keep them there with displays of valour and causal kindness. There'd been a time when her perfection hadn't grated on him; she'd been a good big sister as well as everything else, and took the time to read stories, play with him, even help him with swordwork after Father was gone – if only by summoning wisps for him to aim at.<p>

But even Amelia Hawke's perfection had its limits. Despite all her charm, all her talent and skill combined, despite being easily the most powerful person in their group, she hadn't been able to save his twin from being crushed to death in the grip of an ogre.

Carver had already begun to resent how he could never do anything without being outshone by Amelia, but that was the moment that sealed the distance between them. She'd always promised she would do right by the pair of them and yet, for all her power, she had been as helpless as he was to free Bethany from the paw that had broken her. And then she'd dared speak for Bethany, saying that their sister wouldn't have wanted them to linger, and Carver had almost leapt across the field and gutted her himself. She could have said that they needed to move on as the darkspawn were approaching, but no, she had to try and adopt Bethany's voice to get Mother to follow.

He'd loathed her ever since.

She knew it as well. After their first year in the Red Iron, she'd barely had anything to do with him. At home, new names got dropped more frequently in conversation over dinner – Varric, who was going to get them into the Deep Roads, Anders, a fugitive Grey Warden mage, Fenris – a fugitive Tevinter slave, to name her three most frequent companions. Later on in the year they were joined by Isabela, a pirate woman who had clearly caught his sister's attention from their very first meeting. Carver had actually been with them on that occasion, bought along as Fenris was doing whatever he did when he wasn't brooding in his mansion or fighting alongside his sister. He'd been impressed by the captain himself, as Isabela took down five armed men by herself, and then amused as she promptly started flirting with Amelia.

Well, sort of amused. Being bitter about having been passed over in favour of his sister again drowned that out later when Varric had made some passing comment about how everybody seemed to want a piece of Amelia.

For the most part he was left out, and so he did his own thing. He did separate jobs for the Iron and brought in coin. Coin that wouldn't be donated to the Deep Roads expedition as Amelia was doing with every bit that came their way. She was gambling on their future, but he was putting food on the table, and he enjoyed a period of being Mother's favourite as he wasn't out risking his neck on ridiculous quests or associating with people who were wanted by the law. For the most part. He did join some of Amelia's friends for a game of Wicked Grace every now and again, but usually he stuck to those he knew amongst the mercenaries.

It was satisfactory, in a way. Separate from Amelia, he was considered a powerful fighter in his own right, not always lost in his sister's shadow. He had his own friends, and he provided for their family. That, and the odd trip to the Blooming Rose, made him feel like he was a man, not the awkward boy who'd worshipped the ground his big sister walked on.

And then one day, his sister came back from a week-long excursion to Sundermount, tired and bedraggled, with a coltish elven girl in tow. A Dalish, at that. Her name was Merrill, she was a mage – a blood mage, at that – and she chattered incessantly during the one night she stayed at their hovel before they found her one of her own in the alienage. While they didn't have room for another person in Gamlen's place, Carver found himself disliking the idea of abandoning the girl in amongst the city elves, clearly out of her depth.

He'd tagged along despite the obvious indications that Amelia would rather he didn't, and been surprised by how callously his sister treated her new ally. Amelia's distaste for blood magic was well-known by this point, but even so he thought her blunt refusal to visit Merrill in her home for any other purpose than using her for a mission was harsh. The girl looked so crestfallen when Amelia turned away that Carver lingered, despite the fact that been a six-foot human bearing a two-handed sword in an alienage was to feel a thousand hateful gazes simmering at you from every direction.

"I'll come and visit you, if you like."

Merrill had been looking at the outside of her new home, apparently slightly dazed, but shook herself out of it, looking up at him firstly with curiosity and then with a slightly tentative smile. "That would be nice." She twisted her fingers together. "Maybe not right now, though? I want to…I want to settle in."

He'd nodded and left her to assess her new abode. Amelia had long since headed in the direction of Hightown to report to some merchant or another, and Carver had nothing to do, so he'd wandered into the market district. There was usually enough to entertain him there without him having to spend precious coin, and he sort of preferred the atmosphere in Lowtown to those of the snotty merchants higher up the steps. The sort of snotty merchants that would bow and scrape to his sister if this Deep Roads expedition paid off, no doubt.

He didn't spend long watching the street performers this time, however. The smell of fresh-baked bread caught his attention and he wandered over to the baker's stall, eyeing the soft round loaves. He wasn't hungry himself and they were well-stocked at the hovel by his reckoning, but the temptation to buy some itched at him. Merrill was bound to be hungry by this point in the day, and she was so _thin_.

In the end, he bought a loaf, some cheese and a small pot of olives, before heading back to the alienage. He didn't think he'd ever felt so awkward in his life, standing outside Merrill's house juggling the food between his arms as he knocked on her door. She answered quickly enough, blinking up at him in surprise. "Oh…I thought you were Hawke come back again…"

Carver's donation of goodwill almost got dropped on the floor, as he was annoyed by the idea that she would have been better pleased to see his sister despite the icy attitude she'd received from Amelia, but he managed to force a smile. "I'm Hawke too, you know. Here." He held up his gifts. "I thought you'd be hungry."

Merrill's face lit up and Carver decided it was worth the sting he'd felt a moment earlier. "I am! That's a lovely thought!" She beckoned him in to follow, apologising incessantly for the state of the house she hadn't even owned for more than five minutes. "And you're Carver. Your sister is Hawke."

Oddly, coming from Merrill's mouth, that didn't sound like an accolade for Amelia.

He cleared his throat, and walked in, shutting the door on a thousand prying eyes.


End file.
